


It's just "for now"

by salvatorestjohn



Category: The Story of Tracy Beaker & Tracy Beaker Returns (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Goodbyes, Love Confessions, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:08:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29795148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salvatorestjohn/pseuds/salvatorestjohn
Summary: It's finally Tracy's last day in Elm Tree House. The adoption is official, she's going to live with Cam. It just so happens to be Crash's last day as well, and he's moving a little further. Neither of them are quite ready to face what that means.
Relationships: Tracy Beaker/Crash Watkins





	It's just "for now"

Tracy doesn't know what to do with herself. She hadn't ever really expected this day to come. 

That's a lie. Since she was six, the very first day that she got put into care, she had dreamed of this day, knowing deep down that eventually it would happen. Even if with each day, week, month, year that passed, it started to seem like maybe everyone else was right and she was being ridiculous. But she still hoped, and she still expected it to happen. Just, privately.

Only not like this. In her mind, when she finally left the dumping ground, it would be in her mum's shiny pink Cadillac, being whisked away by her to Hollywood to work with her on movies. And in her mind, she'd be gloating. Celebrating! This is a great day! Sticking it in the faces of the likes of Justine Littlewood and Louise, who laughed at her whenever she said she wasn't staying for long. Finally, they'd see that she was right, and she was going to leave without a second thought!

But she's having so many thoughts. Seconds, thirds, fourths, and even fifths. Not really about her leaving. She wants to go. Cam got here hours ago to take her home with her, finally back from her holiday. It's the day they make the adoption official, as well as Tracy's last day ever in the dumping ground. She should be running out the door, even if she would be getting whisked away in Cam's beetle of a car rather than a fancy pink Cadillac. 

Her feet seem to be stuck to the floor, though. As though she's a ghost, forever cursed to haunt Elm Tree House, never able to step foot outside of it. Or maybe one of the little ones have played a prank on her and glued her shoes to the floor. All she'd have to do is take her feet out of them and she could leave. 

She doesn't try. 

Smiles find her all around the room. They threw their traditional leaving party like they always do. Usually, Tracy would be trying to mess it up, steal the cake for herself. Why should someone else get a happy ending when she's still stuck here? 

But she's the one who's getting the happy ending this time. The cake is for her. The smiles are for her. And the tears are for her—and for Crash, who just so happens to have chosen today to be leaving as well.

"Oh, don't cry, Mike," she tells him, noticing his own teary eyes as she forces the words past the thick lump in her throat. "You're a really ugly crier, trust me, it's not a good look."

He just laughs and his eyes just get a little tearier. "Oh, you."

He hugs her. She lets him, and maybe she even hugs him back. Maybe it's quite a tight, long hug and maybe she doesn't really want to let go. But no one needs to know that besides her. And maybe Mike, who leans down and quietly says to her, "I'm gonna miss you, Tracy Beaker."

She sniffles and blinks a lot—stupid hayfever. But she smiles at him and quietly says, "I'm gonna miss you, too, Mike."

Then he steps back and Cam comes up behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. 

"Are you ready to go?" she asks gently. 

It seems like such a stupid question. Tracy should scoff and say, "Of course I'm ready! I've been waiting six years, what took you so long?" and already be halfway out the door by now. But hearing the five words and knowing what they mean—her stomach turns. Violently. 

"I feel sick," she mutters, too quiet to be heard. She can feel the colour rushing from her head to her toes, her organs squishing up inside of her, forcing the breakfast she barely ate back up to her throat. 

"What was that?" Cam asks. 

"I'm going to be sick."

Tracy rushes out of the room before another word can be said. There are shouts calling her name but she's already halfway up the stairs. Clutching her stomach and praying, praying, _praying_ that her body has some mercy on her and just _waits_ , she flies down the hall and into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

She hurls herself at the toilet and hunches over it, heart thudding against her ribs and in her ears to a point where she swears they're going to burst with the pressure. Her eyes squeeze shut as her throat tightens, her stomach still clenching. She dry heaves but nothing else. It's embarrassing, but she always cries when she throws up. She doesn't know why, and she hates it, but that doesn't stop the tears from stinging her eyelids as she continues dry heaving.

Eventually—which, is really only a minute or so—it stops, becoming shaking, shallow breaths instead. Her heartbeat doesn't slow down at all and her stomach definitely doesn't get any less tense. Her whole body has broken out into a cold sweat, she registers when she rests her sticky forehead on her arms to try and soothe the migraine coming on. Her hair clings to her skin but she doesn't have the energy to care as she tries to focus on remembering how to breathe. It's a lot harder than she would have thought even with sixteen years of experience. 

There's a quick knock at the door and her heart lurches right into her throat, forcing another heave out of her. Thankfully, her breakfast still stays unsettled in her stomach. 

"Tracy?"

There's another nauseating rocking in her stomach and she honestly can't tell if it's fear or relief at the sound of the voice. 

Swallowing as best she can through her breathing, she manages to shakily say, "I'm okay."

The door opens anyway. She doesn't lift her head. She'd rather no one saw her like this, but apparently that's unavoidable so the most she can do is at least try to preserve some sliver of dignity. With her face buried in her arms over the toilet. Very dignified. 

There's another click as the door closes again. She feels Crash sit down next to her, his leg briefly brushing hers. 

"I said I'm okay," she tries to say, but her throat is scratchy and it's more of a croak, so it's not as convincing as she'd have liked. 

"I know," Crash says. He doesn't say anything else. Doesn't argue that she clearly isn't, doesn't ask her any silly questions. Doesn't say she's being silly either, even if she knows that sheis being utterly ridiculous.

He just sits there with her.

"Four seconds in," he tells her softly when he realizes that she's struggling to keep breathing right. 

It still catches her by surprise and she has to mumble, "What?"

"Breathe in for four seconds," he repeats in the same soft tone. He patiently waits for her to do so. "Now hold it for five, in your chest."

She accidentally blows it right back out in exasperation. "What do you mean _hold it in my chest_? It's air, how do I just hold it there when my chest won't let me?"

But then she tries again. And she manages to hold it there, for one, two, three, four, five. Crash counts her through it. 

"Now breathe back out, for eight seconds. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Okay, now back in."

She follows his counting in, holds for his five seconds, and breathes out through the eight. She keeps repeating until he stops counting. It's then that she realizes it's not so hard to breathe anymore anyway. 

"How did you... I mean, what was...?" she vaguely asks. 

"It was something I had to do whenever I got too angry," he explains. "It's to help calm you down. Ground you to your breathing, so that you're in control of it. It helps with panic attacks."

The word panic alone sends a spike of it back through her as she remembers why she's hunched over in the bathroom. Her breathing starts deepening again and she tries to shake her head. 

"No, no, I—" She swallows. "I'm not having a—a panic att—attack. I'm just—I can't breathe, Crash, I can't—it's happening again, I can't—"

She lifts her head without thinking, all thoughts of preserving her dignity gone as her she struggles to keep the air in her lungs. Her whole body is trembling—or at least it feels that way, like her heart is beating so hard and with such force that it's making her entire body quake with it like an earthquake. 

Crash's eyes widen as she turns to him in alarm. "Hey, hey, it's okay!" 

He reaches out to her, hands planting on her shoulders. But she just shakes her head more, screwing her eyes shut again as she draws her knees up to her chest, curling in on herself. It's too much, all of it, she can't think, she doesn't want to think, everything is wrong, and she can't—

"Tracy, listen to me, okay?" Crash speaks slowly and gently, his hands shifting to take either one of her hands in his own. "Keep listening to me. Remember, four seconds in, okay? Breathe, Tracy. Four seconds."

She inhales as best she can for what she thinks is four seconds, then tries to hold onto it. But she accidentally lets it slip out a few seconds too soon. Her hands tighten around Crash's as she tries again but he doesn't say anything about it. 

"I'm right here," Crash murmurs to her as she continues counting in her head, silently mouthing the numbers as she goes. "I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

More tears sting Tracy's eyes. "But I am."

As soon as the words are past her lips, a sob follows and then the flood gates are too far open for her to stop. She just starts crying—proper ugly crying, her shoulders shaking, tears streaming down her face type crying—and Crash immediately shifts to her side and pulls her into him. 

His arms wrap around her and she buries herself into him as she just cries. One of his hands rubs her back and the other strokes her hair, apparently uncaring that she's a sticky, sweaty mess and is probably making him one as well. He just hugs her tighter and rests his chin on top of her head as he gently rocks her. 

"It's going to be okay, Trace," he says, and for the first time, she realizes that his voice has started to sound as scratchy and cracked as her own.

She forces him to let her look up at him and sure enough, tears are tracking his cheeks as well. That only makes her cry harder.

"No! Crash, please don't cry," she chokes out, but somehow it only seems to set him off as well, a choked up laugh passing his lips. She reaches up to try and wipes the still falling tears as she shakes her head. "Please! Don't cry! You're not supposed to be sad today!"

"Neither are you," Crash points out with another chuckle, and she laughs with him. "Besides, how am I supposed to not be sad? We're both leaving. I'd be a terrible friend if I wasn't sad about not seeing you again."

"Stop!" Tracy sobs, her mouth still trying to stretch into a smile. Her palm stays on his cheek, her thumb stroking along the tear tracks. "We're still going to see each other, stupid. It's not like Cam lives in another country. We're just moving... further away. You're still going to be in the area. Right?"

Crash doesn't answer. His hand grasps for hers, rubbing over her wrist, over the back of her hand. She knows why he isn't saying anything. Her heart lurches again. Her other hand has somehow found its way into his other hand and she squeezes it.

"Say it," she pleads, her voice cracking again. "Please, Crash."

"The, er... the program's in Cardiff," he mutters, not looking her in the eyes. 

"But you can visit," she says determinedly. "Or I can visit. It's not that far."

But they both know the truth. Tracy just keeps shaking her head because she doesn't want to see his face crumple like it's already doing. Another sob involuntarily draws itself out of her. She tries to breathe through it, but it's shallow. She notices Crash biting his lip so hard that she swears he must be drawing blood.

She quickly lets go of his hand and reaches out, running her thumb along his bottom lip to get him to stop. "No, don't. Please, don't hurt yourself, Crash. It's not worth it."

"How can you say that?" Crash breathes out, closing his eyes. 

"Because we can't change it," Tracy says, shrugging. "I'm moving in with Cam, and you have to go to Cardiff. This program is your dream."

"But I don't want to say goodbye." Crash looks back up at her, his voice shaking. "I don't want to go if it means that this is the last time I'm going to see you. It can't be. I don't _want_ to say goodbye, not yet. Not ever!"

"Well, neither do I! But, let's be realistic here—I'm never going to be able to afford to go to Cardiff, and you're going to be run off your feet with the program, plus you'll make new friends, meet new people—"

Crash vehemently shakes his head, looking her in the eyes now. He recaptures her other hand, holding onto both of them now, his cheek pressing into one of her palms as he turns his head a little more into it.

"I will never meet anyone like you," he says— _promises_. A small smile twitches at the corner of his lips even as more tears escape his eyes, and Tracy's mouth twists a little as well. "Never. You are the only Tracy Beaker, and my—and I love you."

Tracy's stomach does the ship-on-water routine again, being rocked from one side to the other in a violent storm. She takes a deep breath in (hold—one, two, three, four, five) and manages a genuine smile for the first time all day. 

"Wow," she says shakily with a slight laugh. "I can't believe it took until our last day together for you to say that. Cliche or what?"

Crash laughs, and her heart beats twice as hard and fast—and then sinks into her stomach like an anchor, dragging her down. The realization that she's never going to hear his laugh again hits. Never going to see him smile at her like he is right now again. Never even going to hold his hand like this again. 

The tears start coming all over again and she surges forward before thinking twice. She kisses him, catching him mid-laugh, but she doesn't care. His surprise quickly wears off and he kisses her back. 

When she pulls back, Tracy tries not to start sobbing all over again and smiles at him. "I love you."

"I knew it," Crash jokes. 

Tracy can't even bring herself to playfully shove him and tell him to shut up like she usually would. Instead, she leans back into him, curling back up as his arms wrap around her. They stay there for a moment, her head on his shoulder, listening to his heartbeat and her own. 

"Do you remember when you ran away to find me?" Tracy softly asks. "After I'd run away to find my mum? We were on that bench?"

"Yeah. Pretty much like this," Crash says. 

"I wish I hadn't moved away then," she admits. "I just got scared. I kinda had a crush on you."

"Oh. That would have been good to know at the time considering I also had a crush on you."

Tracy nods. "I knew it."

Crash chuckles and tightens his arms around her, hugging her closer. 

Tracy's hand goes to the base of her throat. She gently fingers the silver hexagon pendant resting there. 

"I've never taken the necklace off," she tells him. Then she pauses. "You should take it."

"What?" Crash looks down at her in confusion. "No, Trace, it was a gift. I got it for you. You keep it."

"But I'll be able to come back and visit this place anytime I want, I'll be surrounded by memories of you," she insists. "You should take the necklace, so you'll remember me."

He shakes his head. "I could never forget you."

Rolling her eyes, she says, "I know, but just in case you need a little reminder every now and then. Please. Take it, and then... and when we finally meet back up, you give it back to me. Okay?"

She sits up and undoes the clasp, taking it off. Already it feels wrong to not be wearing her. Like a little part of her is missing. 

But she holds out for Crash to take. He eyes it uncertainly and glances at her, silently asking if she's sure. When she just raises her eyebrows he sighs but stretches out his hand and gently takes the pendant with her initial on it. He delicately traces the "T" for a second then lifts his eyes back to meet her gaze. 

"You think there will be a next time we meet?" he asks quietly. Hopefully, the light in his eyes shining so brightly that she couldn't dare to diminish it even if she wasn't just as hopeful.

"Of course I do," she says firmly. "I know there will be. So, don't you dare lose that."

Crash smiles and shakes his head, closing his fingers around the pendant. "It's never leaving me."

"Good." Tracy smiles back, even though it feels a little more strained and her cheeks ache from the dried tears. She looks down and takes a deep breath. When she lifts her eyes back to meet Crash's gaze, they both know. Without saying it, they just know. 

He nods and stands up, and she follows. It takes everything in both of them to leave the bathroom, but they force themselves to rejoin everyone in the lounge. The smiles are gone and replaced with concern and frowns and confusion. 

Cam is by their side in an instant, eyes scanning Tracy's pale face. "Oh, Trace, are you okay? I'm sorry, this was so much pressure, and I knew it was going to be hard, but I just... if you're not ready..."

"No." Tracy glances around the room, purposefully letting her eyes flick by Crash and settling back on Cam with a small smile. "I'm ready."

"Are you sure?" she asks. 

Tracy nods. And so they get everything into the boot of the car. Everyone files out into the front garden to wave them off. Tracy's heart clenches and her stomach rocks side-to-side as she takes in each and every one of their faces. She lingers on Mike and she gives him the biggest smile she can as she waves to him and he waves back. When she looks at Crash, with Jackie next to him, her arm hooked through his and tears in her eyes, she nearly breaks down again. She barely manages to get through hugging Jackie because _she_ breaks down.

As soon as she lets go, Tracy just gets in the car, does up her seatbelt and breathes. _In, hold, out,_ Crash's voice repeats in her mind. 

She can't stop herself from turning around in the seat and staring out at them all as Cam starts the car. It's not _goodbye,_ she reminds herself as they all start shouting, "Good luck, Tracy!" and running after the car, and she watches Crash, Jackie, and Mike standing off to the side, all four of them crying. It's just _for now._

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, if there's anyone reading this!! I am aware that the chances of anyone actually reading this fic at all are slim because, let's fake it, no one outside of the UK has actually heard of Tracy Beaker as far as I'm aware. And people within the UK who have heard of it do not care enough to read a fanfiction about it. But I'm still gonna write fics anyway because I have been rewatching TSOTB, Tracy Beaker Returns, and The Dumping Ground way too much during lockdown! So, if you are somehow here, I hope you enjoyed the ship that I wish we had gotten! (Also, if you've watched series 8 of The Dumping Ground then you may be able to tell where I got in the inspiration for this scene from...) <3


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